


Like Learning To Fly, Or Falling In Love

by larrymylove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Relationship Negotiation, Supportive Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrymylove/pseuds/larrymylove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry didn't expect for a half-naked, wet Louis Tomlinson to knock on his door because the water to his shower stopped working just before his big date. But he did. Harry also didn't expect to fall so hard so fast for. But he does. And it turns out navigating a budding relationship isn't always as a easy as one might think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Learning To Fly, Or Falling In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Jordin Sparks, "One Step at A Time." Enjoy!

Harry Styles was carefully placing chocolate ganache roses upon swirled beds of raspberry icing when the pounding on his door began. He jumped, a rose breaking in his hand. He cursed, placing the broken rose aside on a sheet of wax paper. He’d have to make another one now - not that it was exactly difficult for him, but it was a tedious thing, and he didn’t really want to have to deal with the whole process of forming chocolate into an intricate flower because someone apparently didn’t know how to knock politely. 

Harry abandoned the cupcakes he had laid out on a cooling sheet before heading to the front door to see what all the fuss was. The pounding was incessant and Harry swore to god if this was Niall coming over for some “emergency” such as running out of crisps or beer, he’d slam the door in his face. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d come over in a state of distress on account of running out of beer or snacks. For whatever reason, he always insisted on popping over to Harry’s as opposed to just walking the two blocks to the store. Probably because he knew Harry would always give in, and it’d end up being a night of them eating junk food and watching movies. Harry couldn’t really complain. He liked Niall’s company. Who wouldn’t? The kid was fun. But Harry had broken a chocolate rose and now would have to spend close to two hours to go through the whole process to make another. Frustrated was an understatement.

“What do you want?” Harry cried out, exasperatedly, as he swung open the front door.

“That how you greet all your guests, mate?”

And okay...this wasn’t Niall. Before him, standing in the threshold of the doorway, was a man - at least two heads shorter than Harry - wearing nothing but a faded green towel around his waist. He had beads of water running down his face, neck, collarbones, chest. He also had ink - lots of ink - littering across his caramel skin. Harry wondered if he licked one of those droplets of water, if it’d taste like caramel milk. Probably. His mouth watered.

Wait. _What?_

“Not usually,” Harry snapped his attention back to what was currently going on in the real world, and not in his fantasy land. Besides, this man was the cause of him breaking one of his roses. And that was just unacceptable, “Only when said guests are rude shits who insist upon pounding on doors until they almost come breaking down. You gave me a fucking heart attack. _And_ you made me break one of my roses!”

“How does one break a _rose?_ ” The man’s brow quirked.

Harry sighed, annoyed, and extended his arm to point to the kitchen off to the side of the entryway. 

“Chocolate roses,” Harry explained, not really knowing why, “They’re decoration for the chocolate, raspberry cupcakes I’m making for my sister’s bridal shower tomorrow. And I had a set number of cupcakes and the perfect ratio of roses to cupcakes. And you made me break one. Because you pounded on my door like a madman. And now I have to make another one. Because I can’t have a cupcake without a rose. It’d look weird. Do you know how long it takes one to make chocolate ganache roses? I’ll tell you. _Two hours_. You have to melt the chocolate, mold it, shape it, let it cool, touch it up, and then place it on the icing. It takes me two hours. I do them all at once, so it’s not so bad. But to spend two hours to make one fucking rose all because you can’t knock like a decent fucking human being…”

“Whoa there, Willy Wonka,” the man chuckled, and honestly it made Harry want to ram his fist into his jaw. He wasn’t usually so hot-tempered, but Christ he was frustrated - okay? “I’m sorry about your cupcakes. I am. But I have an emergency here and I didn’t know who to go to. So I’m here, alright. Can you just...can you let me come in real quick? It’s drafty out here, and in case you didn’t notice, I’m wet and in just a towel.”

Oh, Harry noticed alright.

“Why should I let you in?” He asked defensively, “I don’t know you. Clearly you don’t have all your marbles up there,” Harry tapped a finger to his own temple, “And I don’t know if it’s smart of me to let a half-naked, wet, madman enter into my flat.”

“I’m not mad, okay,” the man sighed, sounding almost as frustrated as Harry, “Look. I have a huge date in like an hour and me shower just stopped working. It’s not the first time it’s happened either, and I am going to wring our maintenance man’s neck for it because this is starting to get ridiculous. But I have a date I have to go on and I need to finish me shower. I normally wouldn’t be at a stranger’s door for this. It’s just...well, I’m new here. Not really, but I don’t know many people here yet. I’ve only met the old lady who lives across from me and she prattled on about her three parakeets the whole time. I would rather not go to her. And I could just call up my best mate, but the fucker is in Bradford this weekend, and you’re my last hope. I live beside you, if you didn’t recognize me. I keep odd hours, so I don’t see many people when I’m coming and going. And this is way too much information to share with a stranger, but I just really fucking need your shower. So...can I? Have it?”

Harry had to admit, he did feel a bit bad for the man. He looked beyond stressed and desperate and Harry knew he wasn’t going to turn him away. He took a deep breath before sighing and letting out, “Fine. You can borrow my shower. But if you steal anything or…”

“What do you think I am? A robber who goes about to people’s flats stark naked to trick them into letting me borrow their shower so I can steal from them? Where would I even put anything? Up me bum? No thank you. I’m very picky about what goes up there.”

“Christ,” Harry muttered, feeling his cheeks heat, “Alright well fine. I’ll show you where the bathroom is. Just...watch where you’re dripping.”

The man pushed past Harry into his flat, and Harry shut the door behind them. 

“Those look so good,”  the man said, walking over to the kitchen to admire the cupcakes.

“Don’t touch those!”

“Rude. I wasn’t going to.”

“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “I’m just...I’m frustrated okay. Come on. The bathroom’s right this way,” Harry waved his fingers and the man followed, trailing behind him, to the bathroom. Harry opened the door and flicked on the lights, “So um...towels are on that rack there. They’re all clean and fresh, promise. You can help yourself to my soaps and shampoos. Just try not to use too much of the apple cider vinegar shampoo and conditioner. They’re expensive. The bathrobe on the door is clean. You can borrow it to wear back to your flat so long as you return it. And if you don’t return it, I do know where you live and I’ll hunt you down.” When the man’s brow quirked, Harry added, “It’s a nice robe. Okay, so I’ll just leave you to it then.”

“Cheers, mate,” the man said, reaching to shut the door as Harry backed out of the bathroom.

As Harry made his way back to the kitchen, he shook his head in disbelief. This sort of shit just didn’t happen in real life, did it? Naked, attractive men don’t just show up on your doorstep, dripping wet. But he had a date, that was the whole point of this ordeal - he had a date to prepare for. Harry decided to abandon the chocolate roses until the man was far away from him, and instead started on the makings of a double boiler so he could melt some more baking chocolate. Niall always teased Harry for how long it’d been since he’d last had someone. And maybe Niall had a point, because as Harry turned up the burner, all he could think about was the water droplets on the man’s collarbones. And it wasn’t just that he was extremely hot. He was also cute. His little mannerisms, his playful voice. And now he was naked, showering in Harry’s flat and using his soaps. 

_ At least he’ll be smelling like me on his date. _

Okay what the fuck was that? Harry smacked himself in the forehead. He needed to fucking chill. This guy had a date. A huge date. Probably with his boyfriend. Probably with his long-term boyfriend. It was going to be all romantic and sweet. And Harry felt a little sick. He hated to admit it, but Niall was right. It’d been far too long since he’d had anyone - to fuck, date, or otherwise. And now there was a gorgeous, naked man using his shower - and who happened to live right next to him. Harry wondered if he still had any of those anti-nausea tablets laying around.

The boiler was heating up, so Harry began to cut some more chocolate from the brick of baking chocolate to add into the double boiler. He tried to focus on that. Just focus on the chocolate, don’t even think about the man showering. But that was a little difficult, especially when the absolute shit started singing! Actually _singing_ in Harry’ shower. Harry almost sliced the tip of his finger off when he first heard it. 

Coming from his bathroom, was the distinct belting out of the song, “I’ll Make a Man Out of You.” It was quite a dramatic rendition, and Harry couldn’t help but burst out laughing. No way was this man real. He couldn’t be. Surely this was all just a figment of Harry’s imagination. Was trying hallucinogens once in uni enough to cause enough brain damage to imagine a grown man, naked, in your flat, singing Disney songs? Harry blamed his roommate old roommate, Jeff. As the chocolate was beginning to melt, Harry shot off a quick text to Niall--

**_There is a naked man in my apartment showering and singing Disney songs. Oh yeah, he’s fucking gorgeous too!_ **

_ You haven’t dipped into that new German ale without me, did ya? Take it easy, H. And if there does happen to be a gorgeous naked man in your apartment showering and singing Disney music, then...maybe start singing too? Only perhaps a different song than Disney. Might I suggest ‘I’ll Make Love To You’ by Boyz II Men? _

Thank you, Niall.

Harry didn’t even justify that with a response. He set the phone face-down on the counter top and began to stir the melting chocolate with a fork. The water finally shut off. Harry gripped the fork until his knuckles were a ghostly white. Any moment now, the man would be coming out in just Harry’s bathrobe. He wasn’t sure if that was a sight he was ready to see. Just focus on the chocolate, the melted chocolate...licking melted chocolate off his lips...wait... _no!_ No! Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_

“Hi,” the man appeared, walking over to the bar of counter separating the living room from the kitchen. He leaned his arms on the counter, watching Harry stir the chocolate. He was bundled up in Harry’s robe, which was far too big on him. He looked so soft and fresh and cuddleable. It just wasn’t _fair_ , okay? It wasn’t. 

“Hi,” Harry turned from the chocolate, “Did you have a nice shower?”

“Yup. I um...I might have accidentally used all your apple cider vinegar shampoo though…”

“You did WHAT?” Harry’s voice rose, and just then, the man broke down into a fit of giggles. Oh Harry quite wanted to smack him.

“I’m kidding,” he giggled again, “But you should have seen your face! Christ, that was priceless! I thought your eyes were actually going to pop from their sockets. You okay there, mate? Heart rate going back to normal there?”

“Oh shut up!” Harry groaned, turning back to the double boiler, “Just...go. Have fun on your date and see to it that you return that robe. Also, nice singing. Maybe try serenading your date tonight. Maybe skip the Disney and go for more of a ‘Pony’ by Genuwine vibe and you might just get lucky.”

“Oh my God,” the man’s mouth actually dropped open in shock. He actually didn’t have a response. Harry counted it as a win in his favor. Harry: one - handsome, gorgeous stranger: zero. 

Harry turned off the stove now that the chocolate was glossy and melted, “Just trying to be helpful,” Harry smirked coyly, pouring the melted chocolate into the silicone mold.

“Right,” the man pinched his brow, “Look...I don’t normally just start singing when there’s like...people around. Just...in the shower. Just to pump myself up before...a date. It eases my tension a bit. Calms me nerves down. I’m sorry if it was obnoxious to you.”

Harry felt a little pang of guilt, “I didn’t mean to like, make you feel bad for it,” he shoved the mold into the freezer, flushing, “I was just kidding was all. I do weird rituals before dates too, don’t worry. I get it. I just...I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward for it…”

The giggling started up again, “You really are too easy, mate. Honestly.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush even more, “You can leave now.”

“I am,” the man snatched a piece of broken chocolate from the wax paper, popping it into his mouth before Harry could slap his hand, “This is good by the way.”

“Out. Now.”

“Alright, alright,” the man chuckled, pushing himself up from the counter and headed towards the front door, “You know, maybe it’s not _me_ that needs to ‘get lucky’ tonight. You seem a bit tense. Could use a bit of a tension relief.”

“Out!”

The next thing Harry heard was the sound of the man laughing and the door clicking shut behind him.

\--

With the man finally gone, Harry could begin placing the rest of the roses on their respective cupcakes. Just as he stuck the final rose (with an exception to the one currently freezing in it’s mold) into the final cupcake, there was another knock on the door. Softer this time. Harry let out a soft sigh of relief that 1.) the knock was softer and 2.) all the roses were safely placed on their cupcakes and none had been broken due to him being startled. He glanced at the clock on the oven. It was a little after eight. Confused, Harry made his way to the door. When he opened it, who he saw standing there, surprised him.

It was the man from about two hours prior, dressed in a black button-down, fitted shirt and black skinny jeans that hugged his legs. His hair was blown dry and soft - fringe swooping across his forehead. He was staring down at his shoes when Harry pulled the door open.

“Uh, hi,” he said, still not looking up, “It’s me...again.”

“Hi,” Harry blinked, “Is everything...is everything okay?” Why are you here? Why aren’t you on your date?

“No, everything's _not_ okay,” the man spat out before quickly glancing up through his lashes - his eyes were red-rimmed and damp - saying, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Christ, I don’t even know why I’m here. But I just...I don’t know where else to go.”

“Come in,” Harry opened the door wider, “Let’s sit down on the couch and you tell me why you’re here.”

The man followed Harry inside and over to the living room. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, neither one of them speaking at first. They stared at the blank, black screen of the television in completely silence. Harry had a thousand questions to ask, but he knew nothing good had happened tonight, and he didn’t want to push the man to say anything until he was ready to. 

“He didn’t show,” he finally said, voice flat and raw.

Harry turned, tucking his feet underneath him, and facing the man. He kept his eyes trained on the television as he continued it, “I sat at that fucking restaurant for over an hour waiting. I texted him about a hundred times. He never came. And then, as the waitress was about to tell me I needed to order something or fucking get out, he finally texted. Do you know what he said? He just said ‘sorry, not gonna make it.’ An _hour_ after he was supposed to be there. I was humiliated! Everyone was staring and...fuck. I...I’ve never been stood up before. It fucking sucks.”

“It does,” Harry said.

The man turned away from the television to stare at Harry. He blinked, “You’ve been stood up before?”

“Yeah,” Harry picked at a thread on the knee of his jeans, “Um, not recently. But it’s happened before. A few times actually,” he winced, unable to look the man in the eye, “So I know how much that sucks. I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“I’m sorry it happened to you too.”

Harry smiled a sad smile, “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Louis. Shit. I should have said that earlier. I don’t know where my manners were earlier. Me mum would smack me if she saw how I behaved to you earlier. I was just….I was so nervous for a date that didn’t even show.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said, trying his best to sound soothing, “Really. I get a bit freaked before big dates too. Did you know the guy well?”

“No,” Louis flicked some fringe from his forehead with a swoop of his wrist, “I met him at a bar. I guess that’s what I get for thinking dating a one night stand would work. We uh, we’d exchanged numbers and texted some. I asked if he wanted to go to dinner tonight. Like I said, I don’t know many people here. It probably freaked him out.”

“Hey, no,” Harry frowned, “Don’t. This isn’t on you, okay? He shouldn't have stood you up. If he didn’t want to go out with you, he should have had the balls to just say so. Standing you up like that is cowardly. That’s on him, not on you.”

Louis smiled a soft smile, eyes crinkling a tad as he did, “Thanks, H.”

Harry couldn’t help but preen at the nickname, “You’re welcome, Lou. Look...I know tonight’s been a bit shit on you. So if you want to just hang here tonight, you can. I was going to order some pizza and watch a movie or something. You’re welcome to join. I’d like the company, actually.”

The smile deepened, reaching more into his eyes as Louis said, “Yeah? I’d like that a lot, actually.”

“Awesome,” Harry felt himself dimple.

“I should run next door though real quick. I don’t really want to be stuck in this all night,” Louis pulled at the collar of his dress shirt.

“You don’t have to,” Harry scratched the back of his neck, realizing he may have said that too quickly, “It’s just...um...I have clothes.”

“You have clothes,” Louis said flatly, “Really? That’s surprising considering most people don’t.”

“Shut up,” Harry rolled his eyes, fighting the smile on his face, “I just...I have things you can wear. Sweats. A t-shirt. I mean, they might be a bit big on a pea like you, but…”

“I am not a pea!” Louis objected, eyes widening and Harry could tell he was trying hard not to smile too, “I’m big!” Harry snorted. “I _am!_ ”

“Right. Sure,” Harry pushed himself up from the couch, “Come with me. Let’s see what I have for you to wear.”

“Kay,” Louis said, following behind.

Harry lead him to his bedroom and over to the dresser. He opened the second drawer and began to dig through it as Louis stood beside him, glancing around the room.

“I like this,” Louis said simply.

“Thanks?” Harry held up an old t-shirt he thought was Gemma’s from when she’d last visited, “I think this might fit,” he offered it to Louis, who held it up to his frame.

“Looks like it. You got sweats too? I need out of these jeans soon.”

“On it,” Harry began to dig around in the third drawer.

“I mean, it’s just...calming,” Louis said, back to the topic of Harry’s bedroom, “It does lean on the side of creepy - what with the black curtains and all…”

“Hey...” Harry pouted.

“But I like it,” Louis shrugged, leaning against the dresser on the side of drawers Harry wasn’t riffling through, “It’s dark - lots of black. But then you have that nice yellow-light lamp, and all the candles. It’s nice.”

“Most guys I have in here say it looks like I’m about to have a seance,” Harry snorted.

“There a lot of guys you bring in here then?” Louis quirked a brow.

“Not what I meant,” Harry rolled his eyes, pulling out a pair of sweats, “Will these work?”

“I think so,” Louis took the sweats and laid them over his arm, “Everything’s tidy too. My room looks like a tornado blew through.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” Harry laughed, shutting the drawers, “I’ll just leave you to it then,” he said, heading towards the door, “And try to fold your dress clothes and put them on the foot of the bed. I’d rather not have my room looking like a tornado too on account of you.”

Louis stuck his tongue out just as Harry was closing the bedroom door.

\--

“What pizza do you like?” Harry asked, pulling out the take out menus from a drawer in the kitchen, “I’m fine with whatever. So it’s your pick.”

“Double cheese, ham, pepperoni, and jalapenos,” Louis said breezily, propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch he was currently sprawled out on.

“Nevermind,” Harry rolled his eyes, “Maybe I’m not fine with whatever. That’s gross, Lou.”

“It is not!” Louis gasped, affronted, “It’s delicious. You just have no tastes, H.”

“I have plenty of tastes,” Harry chuckled, “Enough to know that that’d taste like shit.”

Louis huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I suppose you are the kind of sick fuck that thinks pineapple on pizza is an acceptable choice.”

“Actually…”

“God damn it,” Louis laughed, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Get a half my order, and half whatever the fuck you get with your pineapple on it because apparently not only do you not have tastes, but you’re also an alien from some sort of other planet where pineapple is an acceptable pizza topping.”

“I am not an alien,” Harry pouted, trying not to break his pout by laughing.

“Right. And I’m not about to call Mulder on you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes trying to appear threatening, but only ended up bursting out into a fit of giggles, that Louis joined in with easily.

“I hate you,” Harry said, trying to collect himself and failing.

“Oh you do not,” Louis chuckled, “Just order the fucking pizza, H.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but ordered the pizza anyway - one half of whatever the mess Louis wanted was, and the other half ham, pineapple, and red peppers. He put the menu away back in the drawer and went over to sit with Louis on the couch. He didn’t really know what was acceptable given the situation - should he sit beside Louis, or leave a cushion between them? 

“Come here,” Louis said easily, making Harry’s choice for him, by putting his arm over the back of the couch and petting the spot where his hand was. Harry sunk down on the cushion beside Louis, his neck prickling at the sensation of Louis’ arm being just a feather’s touch away.

“Pizza should be here in about thirty minutes,” Harry said, “Want to start up a movie?”

“Sure. Do you have Netflix.”

“No,” Harry furrowed his brow, “What is this...Net...ficks...you speak of? I am but a simple alien from another planet, remember?”

Louis smacked him, moving his arm from the back of the couch, and shoving Harry’s shoulder. Harry chuckled, trying not to be too disappointed that Louis had moved his arm away.

“You are so weird,” Louis laughed, shaking his head. It was the first time Harry had ever been called weird without any head behind it. Louis hadn’t meant it to be mean, or as an insult. He’d just stated it like a fact. And Harry supposed there was truth to it. He smiled happily, situating himself back to where he’d been prior to Louis shoving him. Louis reached out to the coffee table to grab for the remote controls. He handed them over to Harry saying, “Are you sure aliens know how to use such complex human technology as the remote control?”

“I _will_ kick you out.”

“Oh you will not,” Louis scoffed, returning his arm to it’s original position. Harry couldn’t help but smile happily as he started up the television and opened up Netflix. He was right. Harry wasn’t going to kick him out. In fact, Harry never wanted him to leave. He wouldn’t be too opposed to this beautiful boy just settling in and making himself at home (he pretty much had) and never, ever leaving.

“You don’t know that,” Harry smirked, scrolling through the Netflix feed, “Now what movie do you think we should watch?”

“So much for kicking me out, eh?”

“Still haven’t made up my mind yet. The night’s still young after all. Now pick a movie.”

\--

Louis picked the first Pirates of the Caribbean because, “I can promise you, it’s been too long since you’ve seen this, H. And also, Orlando Bloom. Need I say more?” Their pizza arrived shortly after they started up the movie, and they munched on pizza, sipping soda from Harry’s fridge, and teasing each other over their pizza toppings. 

As the credits of the movie began to roll, Harry said, “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you popped over again sometime. Just knock more carefully next time. And hopefully after no more shitty dates gone wrong, okay?” He didn’t say that he wanted to be Louis’ next date. And the next. And the next. And all the ones after.

Louis chuckled, reaching up to tangle his hand in Harry’s hair. Harry tried not to openly pur at the sensation of Louis scratching lightly at the base of his head, “This your way of kicking me out, H?”

“No...I...I didn’t mean you had to go. I just was saying...I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again either. Now then, it’s almost eleven. I could go now, or I could stay. And watch you make that chocolate rose I had to make you redo. I promise I’ll be real good and quiet.”

“Okay, yeah,” Harry said and Louis sat up from the couch, heading to the kitchen. Harry tried not to pout over the fact that Louis was no longer petting him. He wasn’t a bloody cat, okay? He didn’t need someone scratching at his scalp like that. But God, it had been nice…

“So what are these for again?” Louis asked, leaning his arms against the counter-top and eyeing the cupcakes.

“My sister’s bridal shower tomorrow. She’s getting married in two weeks.”

“At least you didn’t get roped into baking the wedding cake, eh?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind,” Harry opened up the freezer, pulling out the mold and setting it down on the counter in front of Louis, “It wouldn’t be my first. I work at a bakery. I’ve done my share of wedding cakes. The last one I did was sort of a nightmare. Not my fault though, it was the client actually. Horrible bridezilla. I was ripping my hair out by the end of it all. Gems said she’d love for me to make her wedding cake, but that she didn’t want to add more stress to me. So she said I could be in charge of cupcakes for the bridal shower. She’s having another bakery do the wedding cake.”

“Ah,” Louis nodded, watching intently as Harry carefully removed the chocolate rose from the mold, “Is she older or younger? All my sisters are younger, and the oldest of them all has had a steady boyfriend since she was seventeen. She talks about marrying him, and I just...I can’t process that.”

“She’s older. She’s my only sibling. We’re just a few years apart.”

“That’s nice. I’m the oldest out of all my siblings. There’s a whole lot of them too. But I wouldn’t trade them for the world. They’re pretty awesome, when they aren’t being obnoxious as fuck. Me mum has her hands full, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, Gemma - that’s my sister - she talks about wanting kids one day. But I think she just wants like one or two, like our parents did. But I want a whole lot of them. I’m thinking anywhere between five to ten is a good number.”

“Jesus,” Louis laughed.

“What? Kids not your thing?”

“No, no. Kids are most definitely my thing. And I want a whole heap too. But seven would be my limit. The most seven, the least three.”

“Seven is a good number,” Harry took a little tool and began to carve off some of the chocolate to neaten up the rose a bit.

“Seven is a _great_ number. So what got you into all this?” Louis asked, waving his arms to indicate the baking supplies.

“I’ve always loved baking,” Harry answered, “And when I got into uni, I thought I’d try to be a lawyer. I even took a few classes for it. But it was just...not my thing. Like, at all. And so I switched over to business. I work at a bakery a few blocks away, actually. It’s not a bad job at all. I work with a bunch of old ladies.”

“I bet they just adore you,” Louis reached out and pinched Harry’s cheek, “You seem rather easy to adore.”

Harry blushed, begging himself not to read too far into that comment, “They’re sweet. They adore everyone. Shit, they’d probably even adore _you_.”

“Hey now,” Louis frowned, “I am _very_ adorable.”

“Especially singing Disney songs at the top of your lungs in strange men’s showers.”

“So you admit you’re a strange man then?”

“Not what I meant.”

“Maybe _I_ should have been the one more worried for my safety than you. You were thinking I was a robber, all possessive over your shampoo and shit. But you’re a proper odd one yourself. How did I know you wouldn’t pull a Norman Bates and stab me in the shower, eh? How do I know you aren’t going to still stab me? I should probably be going.”

“Oh shut up!” Harry giggled, “You’re impossible.”

“Some would say irresistible, you know.”

“And who are they? People without dictionaries? People who have never spent longer than thirty seconds with you?”

“Oi!”

\--

It goes like this: for the next week, Louis is always over. When Harry gets off work, he knocks on Louis’ door and invites him over for movies and dinner. And when Louis gets home at his odd hours - it turns out he works at his best mate’s tattoo parlor - he always knocks on Harry’s door with beer to share, ready to tell him about the funny clients he had that day. They are pretty much attached at the hip by the following Thursday. When they aren’t with each other, they’re texting silly jokes and banter to make each other laugh. And Harry has even started smuggling goodies from the bakery home to share with Louis. They don’t discuss what this is between them, but it’s something. 

Harry’s heart races whenever Louis is around - so now he’s pretty sure he’s developed hypertension because Louis is always around. Butterflies also have seemed to take up permanent residence inside his tummy. When he isn’t around Louis, isn’t texting Louis, he’s thinking of Louis - beautiful, gorgeous, bubbly Louis who makes him laugh until his sides hurt. 

They don’t go beyond just little touches here and there. Louis plays with Harry’s curls, scratches at his scalp with the excuse of “I’m getting the springy bits.” Harry will rest his head on Louis’ shoulder. They’ll draw shapes on each other’s thighs during movies, doodling close to their knees to make each other jump and swat at the other. And Friday, on the one-week-anniversary of meeting Louis, Harry asks him--

“Lou, would you like to come to Gemma’s wedding with me?”

Louis is munching one one of the white chocolate cranberry cookies Harry had brought in from the bakery, and chokes a little at Harry’s question, “W-with you?”

“Yeah,” Harry is in the kitchen, supposedly getting a drink. He turns to the sink to rinse some dishes, just to have something to do with his hands - something to try to focus on. It doesn’t work.

“Um...okay?” Louis’ brow is furrowed and he’s looking at him funny and Harry wishes he’d never asked.

“It’s just...I don’t have anyone to go with. And I’m going to be a bit bored without someone to stick with during the whole thing. It’ll be fun - lots of yummy food and an open bar, so that’s awesome. Um…”

“Hey,” Louis stands up from the couch and comes over to kitchen, walking around to the sink to put his hand on the small of Harry’s back, “I’d love to go with you, H.”

Harry softens, no longer feels like a statue crumbling, as he says, “Awesome. It’s uh...it’s next Sunday. At um...at noon.”

“Sounds perfect.”

\--

It’s not perfect.

Because in between the Thursday of one week, and the Sunday of the next, things go terribly, terribly wrong.

It starts when Harry gets off work that Tuesday. He goes to Louis’ apartment just like every other day and knocks on the door to invite him over with a baggie of fresh baked cheesecake brownies in tow. Only this time, when Louis answers the door, he says he can’t come over that night. Which isn’t such a big deal. It’s not. Sure, Harry had gotten used to Louis always being over. But they are their own persons and they don’t need to always be together all the time, right? Still, he feels Louis’ words like a knife. The knife twists when Louis says--

“I have a date.”

And oh. 

Of all the things Harry had expected to hear, that was the last thing. Sure, he and Louis had never discussed what the thing between them was. But Louis was over all the time. He’d even slept in Harry’s bed on occasion, the two of them snuggled up together asleep in each other’s arms. But they never actually said what they were. They also had never actually said anything about seeing anyone. Harry was sure Louis had never mentioned this date before, which was odd in and of itself. Because surely Harry would be one of the firsts to know if Louis had met someone. They were at the point of telling each other practically everything. But apparently not really everything. Not if Louis had kept this from him. And it was illogical, Harry knew, but he couldn’t help but feel anger slither through him like a serpent. Because how dare Louis. How dare Louis snuggle up to him every single night and then still make plans with another man. How dare Louis make him feel all the things he made him feel, just to go off and make plans with another man. You just don’t do what they did without it meaning something. Harry felt confusion, but mostly he felt hurt and anger. And the anger was a serpent with a whip for a tongue and venom in his words.

“What do you mean you have a date?” He spat the words out as if they were a battery acid in his mouth.

“I have a date,” Louis said flatly, still not opening his door any further than it was, “I can’t come over tonight. I’m sorry.” He didn’t even sound sorry.

“I...I’m not understanding. A date with who?”

Louis blinked, “What do you mean with who? A guy. A guy I met.”

“A guy,” Harry chuckled humorlessly, rolling his eyes.

“You make it sound like it’s an impossible thing for me to actually have a guy interested in me, so thank you for that, Harry,” Louis’ spitting words now too.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry demanded.

“Why should I have had to tell you? I’m telling you now.”

“But…”

“But what?” Louis is growing angry now, “I’m allowed to date, Harry. I’m allowed to meet people and have them ask me out and I’m allowed to say yes. You don’t own me or anything.”

Harry knew it was true. Even if Louis was his, he still wouldn’t own him. That wouldn’t be right. But there was still part of Harry that felt almost entitled to Louis. And he knew that was stupid and selfish. He knew those things. He knew he was being possessive and that he was in the wrong here. He knew Louis wasn’t his boyfriend. He knew he had no more say in who Louis’ saw than he did over who Niall saw. They were just friends. That was all they were. But to Harry it’d been more. It’d felt like so much more. And surely he wasn’t the only one who’d felt it. Surely Louis had felt it too - that pull between them. How easily and comfortable they just settled into each other’s lives.

“I know I don’t _own_ you,” Harry said, growing more angry by the second, because he knew he was in the wrong - deep down he knew this - but rather than direct his anger at himself, he was throwing it all on Louis, because Louis had hurt him - because Louis was hurting him, “I know that! I just think it’s odd you didn’t tell me. We kind of have been attached at the hip for the last twelve days.”

“And that means...what exactly?”

“I don’t know!” Harry is fuming by then, “You tell me! You’re the one who’s always hanging around  my place. I’ve fixed you dinner every night since we met. You’ve slept in my bed with me. I’ve fallen in asleep in your arms. We text constantly throughout the day. We are always together. We…”

“And that means you’re entitled to tell me who I can see and who I can’t see?”

“No!” That wasn’t right, “I just...I thought we had something between us.”

“Say that’s true,” Louis rests his hand on the doorframe, “Did _you_ do something about it? Did you tell me you wanted to date? Did you tell me you wanted to be my boyfriend? No. You said nothing. And I said nothing. We didn’t make anything officially or exclusive. We never said anything to each other. So therefore, we aren’t together. And I have a right to go out when someone asks me out.”

Harry knew what Louis was saying was true, but it just wasn’t computing into his head, or if it was, he wasn’t listening, “I just don’t get how you can go off on a date and then not even tell me that you’d even met someone. What were you going to do, Louis? Go off on this date, then get in and come knock on my door and sleep in my bed?”

“Harry…” Louis sounded pained as he said it, as if it physically ached him to say Harry’s name. Harry hated that - hated knowing what he said was hurting Louis.

“You know what, just go. Have a good time tonight. And don’t come knocking on my door if he stands you up.”

Oh yeah. Harry definitely hates himself.

He retreats back to his own apartment where he locks the door and slides down against it, sitting on the floor with his back against the hard wooden door, putting his face in his hands, and trying to will himself to not cry. He knew Louis had a point. Harry hadn’t said anything to him about wanting to date him. So really, Louis did have a right to go out with other people if he wanted to. But it felt like a thousand knives stabbing into him that Louis would even want to. It made no sense to Harry. They’d become so close so fast. Louis was with him every night. Louis was sleeping in his bed. Louis was texting him constantly. It made zero sense to Harry. Maybe he had just misread everything. Maybe he’d gotten his hopes up too far. Maybe, as Niall had said, it was too long since Harry had had anyone. He knew he hadn’t been fair to Louis, and he knew he’d hurt Louis. He wanted to go next door, knock on the door, and apologize. But he couldn’t scoop himself up off the floor to do that.

So he stayed on the floor like that until his phone rang. It was Niall, wanting to come over for a beer and movie night because he’d “missed Harry these last few days.” Harry gladly said yes.

God bless Niall.

It helps - a little - having Niall over. They watch Iron Man and drink too many beers, and Harry almost gets his mind completely off Louis - almost. He still turns to the door, thinking he hears someone there - hoping to hear Louis knock and he’d run to the door and answer it and he’d apologize and Louis would come inside and they’d go to bed together. But no one knocked on the door. Harry would take Louis’ banging over the silence any day.

The next day, Harry texts Louis--

_**Hey! I am so sorry about last night. I don’t know what came over me, Lou. I really am so sorry. I had no right to be angry, and no right to say the things I did. I am so, so sorry. I know you might not want to talk right now, but I’m here when you want to. I hope you had such a good time last night, Louis. You deserve to have had such a good time.** _

Louis doesn’t reply.

Two hours later, Harry tries again--

_**Hey, me again! Just wanted to say one more time how sorry I am. I really don’t know what came over me. And the worst thing is I knew I was in the wrong as I was saying what I did, but I still kept at it. And I am so sorry, Lou. You most certainly have a right to date whoever you want to. I don’t own you, Louis, and I would never want to own you like that. You aren’t a possession for a person to own and claim. You are a human being deserving of respect and decency and I didn’t show those things to you last night. I am very sorry and I miss you very much. Please say something.** _

Harry keeps his phone glued to his side throughout the night - all while he prepares dinner, while he changes into his pajamas, as he’s getting ready for bed. Just before falling asleep, Harry grabbed for his phone and decided to text one more time. He promised himself as he was typing that this would be the final message. If Louis still didn’t reply, Harry would drop it until he did. 

_**Louis, just wanted to say one more time before bed how sorry I am. I don’t want us to go to bed tonight without speaking to each other. This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since we met. It’s unsettling. I just miss you a lot. Well, I hope you’re okay and that you get some good rest tonight.** _

He’s about to put his phone down on the nightstand when it pings. His heart leaps up into his throat as he opens the text, and then comes crashing down to the pit of his stomach as he reads--

**If you don’t stop texting me, I’ll block your number.**

\--

They don’t talk the next day, or the next. Harry feels almost like he’s going out of his mind. He misses Louis, is the thing. He misses his wit and his banter and his ability to make him laugh. He misses the rapid heart rate and the butterflies in his stomach. He misses the buzzed feeling he would get whenever Louis was around. But mostly, he just misses Louis. He misses him so much that it’s a bit mad really. He didn’t even know who Louis was less than a few weeks ago. But Louis had become such a fixture in Harry’s life, that he’s physically aching without him.

His phone is constantly at his side in case Louis does end up texting him. He doesn’t, but Harry’s still hopeful. He hadn’t tried to text him since Louis threatened to block his number, and Harry just prays that Louis hadn’t actually done that. Though they live right beside each other, their hours don’t align, and Harry has a feeling Louis might be hanging out at the tattoo parlor longer than needed just to avoid coming home. They never bump into each other in the halls, and Harry hopes every time he opens up his front door, that Louis will be there. He isn’t. 

Gemma’s wedding is getting closer and closer, and Harry wishes he didn’t ache so much at the thought of it. It’s Gemma’s wedding - he should be so incredibly happy right now for her. David is such an amazing guy who treats her so well and she’s so happy. He should be happy too. But all he can think about is how Louis had touched his back that night at the sink, saying how he’d love to go with him to the wedding. 

“Still haven’t heard from him yet?” Niall asks that Friday night. He’s over for pizza and a movie - Harry realizes that Niall’s been trying so hard to be there for him, to cheer him up, to get his mind off Louis, and he suddenly feels such a pang of appreciation for his best mate - like he had been a lot recently, when Harry checked his phone for about the fifth time that night.

“No,” Harry shook his head, sinking back onto the couch, “Nothing yet.”

“Maybe you should just it go, petal,” Niall patted Harry’s knee, “I mean, I know it sucks. But you didn’t know him for very long at all. Just like a few days. And I know you fell and fell hard. But it’s not the end of the world, okay. You’re going to be alright. We’ll go out as soon as you’re ready and I’ll be your wingman, okay? I just don’t like seeing you beating yourself down so far. It’s going to be alright.”

Harry shook his head, “I can’t shake it though, Niall. I really can’t. He’s all I think about. And I don’t know what that means.”

“Well...if you can’t get him off your mind, maybe that’s because he’s supposed to be there.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Give it time. See what happens. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, pet. But you can’t force something that isn’t there. And while you have such strong feelings, you don’t know what Louis’ feeling. He might not feel the same, and you have to accept that.”

“I know. I do. It’s just...it’s hard. I don’t understand it because I genuinely thought we had something.”

“Maybe you did. Maybe you still do. But you have to get yourself out of this funk. Gem’s wedding is on Sunday. I know you might not feel like it, but you have to get your head on right for that. You need to put on a happy face and be cheerful for her, okay. It’s a happy day. You can go back to moping if you need to on Monday. But you have to pull yourself up and out of this for her.”

“I know. He was supposed to come with me on Sunday. He said he would.”

Niall wrapped his arm around Harry, pulling him to his side as he said, “Oh, pet.”

\--

The alarm blared way too early on Sunday morning. Harry shut it off, laying in bed for a moment, as he thought about what Niall had said. He needed to put on a happy face for Gemma. It was her day, and he didn’t need to drag it down by being mopey. If he was still sad, he could be sad tomorrow. For now though, he needed to be happy for his sister. So he willed himself to get up out of bed and to get a shower. He had to leave his flat at eleven to get to the church, and he stood under the hot water of the shower hoping that the heat would jolt him awake. It didn’t. He felt groggy and exhausted - both physically and mentally.

After his shower, he blew his hair dry and put on the tux he’d rented for the occasion. He adjusted the tie under his neck, staring at his reflection. He had bags under his eyes, but at least he did look a tiny bit better than the previous days. Harry forced himself to smile into the mirror - power of positivity and all that. Pretend you’re happy, and you’ll be happy. The reflection staring back looked like it was grimacing  more than smiling. Harry flipped it off before heading out to the kitchen to fix a bagel. 

As he was smearing cream cheese onto his bagel, he smiled a little at thought of how his mother would scold him if she knew he was eating in his tux before the wedding. As if he wouldn’t be eating at the reception in the same tux. Mums were funny like that. Honestly, as upset as he was, he couldn’t help but be a little excited at the thought of seeing all his family. It’d been way too long since he’d seen his cousins last, and he knew that deep down he’d have fun today.

Harry grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter when someone knocked on the door. Harry had stopped letting himself imagine that Louis would be on the other side. So it surprised him genuinely when he opened the door to see Louis standing on the other side. It surprised him even more that Louis was dressed in a suit. 

“Told you I’d go with you,” Louis brushed the toe of his loafer over the carpet, “So if you still want me to, I’ll go with you.”

Harry felt as though his heart had swelled to ten times it’s usual size. He tried not to let the tears well up in his eyes as he said, “I still want you to.”

“Good,” Louis nodded curtly, “Because I didn’t want to have put on this monkey suit for no reason.”

A small smile played at Harry’s mouth as he locked the door behind them, “It’s not a monkey suit, Lou. And you look good.”

“I suppose you clean up pretty decent yourself, H,” Louis hip-checked him as they walked down the hall of the complex together.

“Louis, I…”

“Not right now,” Louis held up a hand, “Not before the wedding. Today, I want to go to the wedding and have a good time like I’d promised you I would. Tonight when we come home, we can talk about things. But for right now, let me just keep this promise to you.”

Harry nodded, not sure how he was supposed to take something like that. Was that a hopeful thing, that they’d discuss it later? Because it’d be a long, good conversation complete with lots of kissing afterwards? Or was it a bad thing and Louis wanted to wait to talk about it until after because he didn’t want to shatter Harry’s heart moments before his sister’s wedding? Harry felt dizzy as he continued down the hall with Louis at his side.

Things were tense and more than just a little awkward as they made their way to Harry’s car. Louis got into the passenger seat as Harry started up the ignition. His thoughts felt like a thousand bees buzzing around his head. He knew he couldn’t do this. He needed to apologize and he needed some answers. He couldn’t go on for the entirety of the wedding ceremony and the reception like this. He needed some direction, some closure if that would be the case as well.

“Louis,” Harry stilled his hands on the wheel, gripping tightly to try to anchor himself, “I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t sit through the ceremony and the reception like this. I just...I need to tell you how sorry I am. I was being so incredibly stupid that night. You were right, and I was wrong and cruel to say the things I said to you. Especially that final comment. If I could take it all back, I would in a second. You’re more than entitled to date whoever you want, and I have no right to try to control that. You can see however many people you want to see, go on however many number of dates you…”

“Harry, wait.”

Harry looked to Louis, “What is it?”

“What if I...what if I don’t want to see people and go on dates with all these different people?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...I don’t want to see other people. I don’t want to go on dates with other people. I just...I want you. Okay? There. I said it. I want you. And I probably should have said that a lot earlier, but I didn’t and that’s on me. I should have said something to you. I just...I liked what things were. I had feelings for you, I’m not going to lie about that. I can’t lie about that. I liked being in your life. I liked having you in mine. I liked what we had going on. But the thing is, I got freaked out and scared of ruining all that and moving too fast. Maybe we could have dated eventually, but I didn’t want to rush into that. I liked what we had. The softness of it. The comfortableness of it. We just clicked from the off. I felt like it was right and good where it was. But I did...I did like you. I liked you a lot. But you never said anything about taking things a step further, so I figured you didn’t want to. And I had a client come in and I did his ink and we flirted back and forth and he asked me out that night for dinner. And I accepted because I thought ‘why not?’ We weren’t dating. We weren’t exclusive. And I...I figured it’d help me get my mind off of you. Because you weren’t making any moves there either. So I went on the date. After you were a complete dickhead to me, I went on my date with him, and the whole time I was with him do you know what I was thinking?” When Harry didn’t answer, Louis’ voice rose, “Answer me! Do you know what I was thinking, Harry?”

“I-I don’t,” Harry answered honestly.

“I was thinking how he wasn’t _you_. You were a total dick to me and I still just wanted to leave and go home and knock on your door and talk things through with you. Because I knew that’s not you. I knew whatever made you act like that had to be something going on inside your head. I wanted to talk things through with you. But I didn’t. Because I had my date to think of. And he was lovely and kind and sweet. But he wasn’t you, Harry. And that fucked me up. Because I had this beautiful man who adored me sitting right across from me and I felt absolutely nothing for him. So when I got home, I turned off my phone and tried to just shut you out. I needed to be by myself without you to think through my thoughts. We’ve been glued to each other’s hips since we met. It wasn’t healthy and I needed time on my own apart from you to think. So that’s why I didn’t text back. And that’s why I’ve kept to myself. I just needed time away, on my own, to think. And I’m sorry for threatening to block you. Your messages were so sweet, and I knew they were genuine. They made me smile, Harry. They did. I just...I needed to think through it all.”

Harry was biting at a hangnail on his thumb, yanking a little too hard on the skin, drawing blood. He hissed and stuck his thumb quickly into his mouth to try to soothe it. Louis t’sked, pulling Harry’s hand down from his mouth and looking at his thumb. He pulled a tissue from the pocket of his dress pants with the hand that wasn’t cradling Harry’s, and wrapped the tissue over Harry’s thumb, brushing his own thumb over Harry’s hand.

“If your mum is anything like mine, she’ll skin you alive if you show up to your sister’s wedding with blood on your tux.”

Harry smiled, though it felt tight and sad in the pit of his chest. He didn’t know where he stood with Louis. Louis kept saying things as in past tense in regards to his feelings for Harry. Did that mean he no longer felt those things? 

“Thank you,” Harry said, indicating the tissue-tourniquet. 

“Of course, H. Can’t have you bleeding all over your fucking tux, can we?”

Harry bit down on his bottom lip, shaking his head. He knew he was blushing.

“Now then, where were we?” Louis asked, rubbing his thumb across Harry’s knuckles.

“Um...you were uh..you said you needed to take time...to think.”

“Right,” Louis nodded as if suddenly remembering, “And I hope you understand why I had to sort of become a hermit. We met so suddenly, so soon and from the off, we were glued to each other. It got to the point where we were literally sleeping tangled up together at night, H. And I needed some time away from you to process what I was thinking and feeling. Because if I’m honest, I can’t always think straight when I’m around you. Do you understand, H?”

Harry nodded, “I understand.” 

“Good. So I had some time to think and I realized that I missed you. Like...an awful lot. Like ‘can’t sleep at night’ kind of miss you. And it fucking sucked. Like big time sucked. And I realized that I don’t want to be missing you anymore. I miss you, H. I miss you a lot. And I want us to work. And I want to more forward with you. I want to take you out on dates and I want to come back to the apartment and hang out with you. I want you to teach me how to bake cookies without setting something on fire. I want to use your apple cider vinegar shampoo and have you yell at me for it. I want to fall asleep with you. I want you to meet my mum and my sisters. I want to date you. I want you, H. And I don’t want it to be too late for that.”

Harry could feel the tears prickling his eyes as he said, “God, Lou. It’s not too late. Never too late. I want all that with you too. I’ve missed you so, so much. You became such a fixture in my life. Where I went, you were there it seemed. Fuck, you pretty much moved into my place from the off. And I cooked you dinner every night when you got off from work. I think...we may have...moved in together...before we actually started dating. And within the matter of less than twenty-four hours. I think we did too much too fast without pausing to touch base with each other and see what we wanted and where we stood with each other. But I want you, Louis. If you’ll have me. And if you say yes, and you are mine, that isn’t you being mine in the sense that I own you. You aren’t a possession, Louis. And you can be your own person. I am so sorry I freaked out that night. I just...I felt so much for you and in that moment I felt you suddenly slipping away.”

“I’m yours,” Louis tightened his grip on Harry’s hand, “All yours. I am one hundred percent committed to you, H. And to make it official or whatever, I’m saying the words out loud. We’re exclusive. Just you, just me. And I should never have said yes to that guy. It wasn’t fair to me, to you, or to him. I just...I was confused. But I’m not confused anymore. It’s you, H. It’s always been you.”

Harry laughed wetly, “I really, really want to kiss you right now. But I know if I do, we’ll never get to Gem’s wedding on time.”

“That confident, eh?”

“Hush. Do you really think you could share just a quick peck with me before we have to hurry off to the church?”

“You’re impossible,” Louis shook his head, a fond smile breaking across his face.

“Some say impossible, others say irresistible.” 

“And who are they?” Louis replied breezily, tucking his hand into Harry’s curls and pulling him closer to him, “People without dictionaries? People who have never spent longer than thirty seconds with you?” Their mouths were just a feather’s touch away and Harry couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Just kiss me, you fool.”

They arrived to church with barely a minute to spare - Harry with his tie crooked and Louis with his button-down shirt slightly rumpled. Harry’s mum looked as if she could kill the both of them on the spot if they weren’t currently standing inside a church. Harry kissed her cheek, promising her a slow dance at the reception and squeezing Louis’ hand gently in his. 

The Wedding Processional began to play on the organ. Louis squeezed Harry’s hand a little tighter in his.

“Your sister looks stunning,” he whispered.

Harry squeezed his hand back, unable to fight the smile on his face if he tried. 

 


End file.
